by James Erich
The glass-paned double doors that opened onto the balcony were locked, but the lock was a clunky thing that Koreh himself could have easily picked. The assassin made short work of it and slipped into the dark room on the other side.
Koreh moved physically then, through leagues of forest and into the shadows within Sael’s bedchamber. The assassin was hidden, or thought he was, in an alcove used for storing linens at one end of the room. The alcove was covered by a heavy tapestry and provided ample cover, but Koreh could see the young man clearly.
In one rapid movement, Koreh leapt upward out of the stone floor and swung his staff hard at the tapestry, targeting the spot where the man was curled up. Bluish light flared out from the tip of the staff when it struck, rippling out across the tapestry like flame, though it didn’t burn the material. Had it struck the man directly, he would have been rendered unconscious, but the heavy fabric protected him. He slammed back against the stone wall and dropped down, rolling out from under the tapestry to land in a crouched position on the floor.
As he fell, he drew two throwing daggers, one in each hand, and threw one directly at Koreh’s head. Koreh barely dodged in time, the dagger flicking by his ear. It would have ripped through the hood of his cloak had the latter been made of any kind of physical fabric. Instead the dagger hurtled through it as if it were nothing but smoke and clanged against the stone wall behind Koreh.
He had to twist his body painfully in order to dodge the dagger aimed at his midsection. That one grazed his hip, since the shadow robe didn’t really provide much by way of armor. But he swung his staff around as he twisted and brought it up sharply into the assassin’s face. Blue light exploded over the young man like a splash of phosphorescent water, and he tumbled over backward. He struck the floor and lay still.
The fight had been relatively quiet, but apparently some noise had alerted the two guards standing outside the room. They burst in, swords drawn, and froze, looking at the two combatants in shock.
“Identify yourself!” one of them shouted, thrusting his sword at Koreh.
Koreh was tempted to disappear as soon as the door opened. But he held his ground, because he needed to make sure the assassin was dealt with properly. Now he realized he might be mistaken for an assassin himself.
But the other guard quickly clamped a hand down on his companion’s sword arm. “Wait! That’s Master Koreh.”
Master Koreh?
The first guard stared at Koreh for a moment, his mouth hanging open as he tried to sort things out in his head. “Are you sure?” he asked the other guard.
“Yes, you idiot. Don’t you remember him from His Lordship’s funeral? Put your sword away!” He was clearly worried about a possible demotion, or whatever they did in the keep to punish guards who offended the royal family.
The first guard sheathed his sword and they both snapped to attention, and then followed it with a bow.
“Can we be of service, Master Koreh?” the more observant of the two guards asked.
“This man is an assassin,” Koreh replied, relaxing his own stance. “He won’t be unconscious for long. Do you have anything we could tie him up with?”
He sent the other one to fetch Sael and Master Geilin while he helped the guard truss up the assassin with one of the ties from the large curtains that flanked the balcony doors.
“Do you have orders concerning me?” Koreh asked the guard curiously.
“His Lordship commanded all the palace guards to give you access to his quarters or anywhere else in the keep, sir. And we’re to obey your orders, sir —within reason.”
Koreh didn’t bother asking him to clarify the definition of “within reason.” This was obviously an attempt on Sael’s part to avoid a repeat of what had happened when they’d first arrived and Koreh had been blocked from reentering the keep after spending the evening at a local tavern. It wasn’t really possible to keep Koreh out, if he wanted to get inside the keep, but he appreciated the fact that Sael was looking out for him.
Unfortunately, when the other guard returned, he had an entourage with him —not just Sael and Geilin, but also Vek Worlen and several others Koreh could only vaguely remember. Sael and Koreh barely had a moment to exchange a look of acknowledgement before the vek snapped out, “What is all this?”
Koreh looked the man in the eye, recalling their last unpleasant exchange before the Taaweh had announced their presence to Harleh. Worlen had tried to bribe him into leaving Sael and then threatened him with imprisonment if he did not. Koreh couldn’t stand him. “An assassin broke into Sael’s quarters. I’ve disarmed him.”
The assassin in question was conscious again, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall and his arms bound tightly to his sides. He was glaring at them, which made him look petulant and even younger than he was. He had wide, dark eyes but otherwise unremarkable features. A face that was unlikely to stand out in a crowd, especially if he was mistaken for a rough street urchin.
“You just happened to be taking a stroll through His Lordship’s”—the vek emphasized the title, clearly annoyed that Koreh was being so familiar —“quarters, when you came upon an assassin hiding in the dark? How lucky for us!”
“Father!” Sael interrupted. “Koreh has permission to be in my quarters.” Worlen gave his son a sour look. “Of that I had no doubt. What I would like to know is how he knew that there was an assassin hiding in your room.”
“I was warned that he would come here tonight,” Koreh said. “By the Taaweh.”
“If the Taaweh knew he was on his way, why didn’t they stop him?”
“Theydid stop him. By sending me.” Worlen snorted, but there was little he could say in response. After all, Koreh had stopped the assassin.
Sael gave Koreh a wry smile and bowed slightly. “Thank you, Master Koreh.”
“Your Lordship,” Koreh responded with a bow of his own and a similar smile. As far as he knew, the Taaweh would allow him to stay with Sael tonight, if Sael had no objections.
General Meik and another man in military uniform flanked the prisoner and lifted him to his feet. Meik searched him for concealed weapons, and then the two men grabbed his arms and pulled him forward until he stood before the vek and Sael.
The soldier Koreh didn’t recognize reached up and roughly yanked the prisoner’s upper lip out and upward, so that the pink underside was exposed. It held a small, shimmering tattoo of a closed eye. “He’s samöt, Your Grace.”
“Yes, of course.” Worlen looked down his nose at the young assassin. “I already know you were sent by the emperor and I already know that your intent was to kill my son, Dekan Sael dönz Menaük. Perhaps you meant to kill me, as well, but that’s an insignificant detail. You know that your failure may mean your execution, if the ömem see fit. So I see little reason to waste time torturing you for further information that I know you don’t have, or listening to any tedious last words of defiance or predictions of my downfall. I’m sorely tempted to just throw you off the balcony and be done with you.”
If the young assassin was disturbed by this threat, he gave no sign of it. He continued to glare at the Worlen without speaking. But one of the vek’s attendants —a dour-faced old man whom Koreh vaguely recognized but couldn’t name— looked alarmed. “Your Grace!”
Worlen waved a hand dismissively. “No, Master Snidmot. I merely said I was tempted. We’ll obey protocol, though what good it will do us with the ömem already refusing to cooperate, I don’t know.” He nodded at the two men holding the assassin. “Please see that he is locked up for the night. Securely, please. I trust between the two of you, you can prevent any dramatic escapes in the wee hours of the morning?”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Meik answered. T he vek turned to Sael, saying, “Have a messenger sent to Worlen to alert the ömem there of the hostage—”
He stopped and looked alarmed for the first time. Suddenly, as everybody turned at once to look at the young dekan, Koreh felt the hairs on the back of his neck
stand on end. The spot where Sael had been standing was empty. Koreh whipped around, searching the room for his lover, but there was no trace.
Sael had disappeared.
Chapter 8
WHILEeveryone searched the room for the missing dekan, the two military men “escorted” Donegh out into the hall and down to the dungeon. Donegh was just as baffled by the dekan’s disappearance as the others, but for a slightly different reason. He’d actually seen what happened, though he had no intention of informing anyone of it. The dekan had been standing there one moment, looking not at Donegh but at the young man who’d captured him with something akin to adoration on his face, when suddenly he’d fallen into the floor. Not through any kind of trap door that Donegh could see. He’d simply dropped down through the stone!
How that could happen, Donegh was uncertain, though obviously some sort of magic was involved. Just as there had to be some sort of strange magic involved in his capture. The young man in the cloak had appeared instantly in the room. Donegh hadn’t heard him enter or come out of hiding. Even if that could be attributed to stealth, the cloak that moved like vapor could not. Nor could the staff that had knocked Donegh unconscious with its odd bluish flame.
This entire valley was under the influence of some sinister magic. The soldiers placed him in a small dark cell with no windows, and only one massive iron door with a small metal grate at eye level. Even if he’d been able to cut through the grating, it was far too small for anything but a cat to squirm through.
A small cat. The soldiers left him there without a word and not so much as a cup of water for his comfort. Donegh had just a moment to see how barren the stone floor and walls were before his captors swung the heavy door shut and slammed the bolts into place. After that there was absolutely no light in the room except for the faint glow of torchlight coming in through the grating.
Donegh walked in the dark until his hands touched the wall, and then he slid down to sit on the floor with his back against it. He had nothing to do now but wait until the ömem in Harleh either sent for him or gave their permission for him to be executed. Since he was young, they might subject him to the harsh punishments of the Brotherhood, but allow him to live and continue his service. Donegh wasn’t sure if he’d be able to bear that humiliation. He knew magic had been used to defeat him, but none of his comrades would believe his story. He would spend the rest of his life being ridiculed for his failure.
Of course, the ömem might simply order his execution. But he couldn’t count on that.
The soldiers had left him with his clothes. It might be preferable to hang himself with his belt from the grating, if he could manage it, or devise another way of strangling himself with it. He slipped the belt off and held it in his hands, touching the soft leather lightly with his fingers and contemplating how he might put a knot in it to press tighter against his trachea.
Then a voice spoke in the darkness, causing him to exclaim in surprise. “Anxious to die, are we?”
It was a woman’s voice. An elderly woman, by the sound of it. And vaguely familiar.
“Who’s there?” Something like a candle flame flickered against the far wall, though it was blue, like a flame made from burning alcohol. In its light, Donegh saw a figure standing near the wall, dressed in the black robes of an ömem, complete with the sheer black veil they generally only wore at official gatherings. The woman had her arm extended and she was pulling her hand away from the flame as if she’d just ignited it, which she must have.
“Have you forgotten me so soon?” she asked with a warm chuckle. She began walking, staying close to the wall and periodically reaching out her hand to tap the damp stone. Every time she did, a blue flame burst into existence and continued to burn in place, though Donegh could see nothing on the wall that could burn and likewise nothing in her hand that could ignite a fire. No flint, no candle.
He stood as she drew near, uncertain whether he should be afraid. “How did you get in? The room was empty when they put me in here. I’m sure of it.”
She drew close, but her veil obscured her features. “Donegh….”
“You know me?” he asked.
“Since you were just a boy.”
Her voice sounded so familiar, yet he couldn’t place it. “Who are you, Sister?”
She touched the wall not far from his shoulder, and another flame flickered into being on the wall. It illuminated her a bit more, so that Donegh could now make out the woman’s features, if only dimly, behind the thin veil. The face that smiled at him sent a sudden chill up his spine. He recognized her now… but it was impossible.
“Thuna?” Thuna had been anömem in the royal court of gü-Khemed, though she’d been more closely allied with the vek. Her service there had largely been as a messenger for the vek and personal physician for his son, which is why they had brought her with them when Sael and Geilin had fled the Capital.
The old woman’s smile broadened.
Donegh backed away until he bumped into the wall behind him. He fought down the urge to scream as terror finally began to overtake him.
Because he knew that Thuna was dead.
SAELlooked up at the ceiling of the cave in awe. He’d never seen a cave this enormous in his life. It rivaled the enormous vaulted ceilings in the royal cathedral in gü-Khemed, supported by natural pillars of stone reaching from floor to ceiling around the edges of it. But the center of the ceiling was one large dome, glowing with strange yellow-green phosphorescent lines. The lines formed a crisscrossed web over its surface that seemed to ebb and flow across the stone like flotsam on the surface of a pond. This “web” extended to the edges of the dome and down the pillars. On the pillar closest to where Sael stood, he could see the glowing lines were comprised of millions of tiny creatures with glowing bodies—nened, he realized, but much larger than the glowbugs that flitted around the fields near Harleh. They followed invisible lines as they crawled up and down the pillars, similar to the trails made by ants.
“Come, iinyeh Sael,” one of the Taaweh near him said gently. Sael was still trying to get his bearings after being yanked down into the floor of his bedchamber and transported here. He wondered briefly what effect his disappearance must have had upon those standing in the room near him. Koreh would probably figure out what had happened—perhaps he’d even known it was coming—and would hopefully explain things to Sael’s father and the others. If not, the entire keep might be thrown into a panic.
But Sael knew the Taaweh would not be convinced to send him back before he’d done what he’d been brought here to do. So he stood up on the bed of soft moss he’d landed upon after popping out of the ground, and brushed himself off. The Taaweh smiled at him and waited patiently until Sael stepped down onto the dirt path beside him. Then he turned and led the way into the center of the cave. Sael followed behind.
The cave was full of Taaweh, more than Sael had ever seen gathered in one place. He was surprised to see they were not all dressed in black robes, the only garment he’d ever seen a Taaweh wearing. Apparently, in their own environment, the Taaweh were free to dress however they liked—tunics, robes, breeches—all in a wide variety of colors—and varying degrees of nudity. Some were completely naked, both men and women, which caused Sael to quickly glance away in embarrassment.
The path merged with a wide expanse of cobblestone in the center of the cave, around which the Taaweh were gathering. On the cobblestone floor was a massive throne of gold, its surface intricately wrought and inlaid with thousands of multicolored precious gems. But it was the man seated upon the throne who drew Sael’s attention. He was much larger than any man Sael had ever seen, dressed in a bewildering assortment of leather, bronze, iron, and steel pieces of armor, all battle scarred and tarnished and stained with what appeared to be blood. The man’s face was that of a corpse. Handsome, but waxen and drained of all color, its lips blue and its eyes nothing but hollow black sockets.
Sael was terrified, but he had heard Koreh talk of this man—the I
inu Shaa. The leader of the Taaweh, or at least one of their leaders. The other Koreh had described as being a very beautiful woman with golden hair, the Iinu Shaavi.
Uncertain how to greet the man—or was he a god?—Sael knelt before the throne and bowed his head.
The Iinu Shaa did not speak, but from all around them, Sael heard the gathered Taaweh whisper, “Welcome, iinyeh Sael.” It was eerie and unsettling, but Koreh had told Sael about the strange way in which the Iinu Shaa “spoke.”
What he had neglected to tell Sael was how to address the man.
“Your… Majesty,” Sael faltered. Whether this form of address was correct or not, the Iinu Shaa didn’t bother to say. Instead the chorus of whispered voices said, “It is time for you to learn your destiny.”
And then it began to rain, although there were no storm clouds within the cave. The rain fell around the Iinu Shaa and Sael, somehow without wetting them. As the rain grew stronger, it began to obscure the cave around them and all the Taaweh congregated there, until eventually it seemed to be a solid wall of water. Sael saw light and shadow flit across its surface and then, to his amazement, images began to form.
“THEY’VE kidnapped him!” Worlen
ranted as he paced around Sael’s chambers. He stopped for a moment to point an accusatory finger at Koreh. “They’ve been trying to force us to recognize you as Sael’s nimen, and now they’ve kidnapped him to allow you to take over Harleh!”
Koreh had been avoiding speaking as much as possible, because he detested having to address Worlen as “Your Grace.” He’d already given his opinion that it was the Taaweh who made Sael disappear, and not something the assassin had cooked up. He’d managed to persuade the vek of that, but that had merely made the man frantic about what the Taaweh were doing, since he distrusted them. Koreh could understand that, but this accusation was both absurd and insulting. As if Koreh would ever plot against Sael!